Paradigm Shift
by intoxicatedasphyxiation
Summary: "You must know why I did it." Itachi never kept Sasuke in the dark about the truth of their clan. His brother on the run, Sasuke is left to handle the aftermath from within the village's borders, feigning ignorance as he struggles between playing the avenger and keeping his brother's will alive.
1. Chapter One: Frayed

**Disclaimer: **I own you. You own me. We're a happy family.

**Summary:** "You must know why I did it." Itachi never kept Sasuke in the dark about the truth of their clan. His brother on the run, Sasuke is left to handle the aftermath from within the village's borders, feigning ignorance as he struggles between playing the avenger and keeping his brother's will alive.

* * *

**Paradigm Shift**

_By intoxicatedasphyxiation_

* * *

**.01**

It was a taut hand on his shoulder that disrupted his inertia.

When he looked up, he saw the mask, the red war-paint bleeding melanoid hues in the darkness of the room. With a cry, he pulled away, stumbling over his own feet as he curled into himself, in the corner of the place that had once housed guests—the waiting room.

Sasuke would forever remember this place as an abattoir.

Sinking deeper into himself, he felt their approach more than heard it—_his brother had been the same, with footsteps so silent it mirrored fish streamlining through the pond's water_—and kept himself curled up like a fetus, willing them away as though the silence would protect him from the dark.

There were two of them, and some part of him could imagine them signing to each other in their secret language. His brother had used such gestures in the compound once, signing something that caused their cousin Shisui to laugh. Shunshin no Shisui, pride of the clan—

—_dead in the water._

The Uchiha name had been everything, back then. Back then, to Sasuke, had only been the day before—encompassing even the hours before the massacre, before _everything changed_. He had thought it was some kind of joke, at first, or even an accident—Old Man Fukumori who lived near the entrance of the compound had been lying face down on his veranda, but everyone said the old geezer was living on borrowed time. Finding him dead wouldn't have been a surprise. Then he saw the bodies, littered every few meters, as though an epidemic had struck the earth.

It hadn't really sunk in until Itachi flicked the shuriken that grazed his shoulder.

The silence was deafening then.

"Boy."

The images flickered away as an unfamiliar voice scattered his thoughts.

He felt the hand on his forearm, uncovering his face, as he flinched away from the mask that greeted him. In the dark, his brother's mask appeared the same—the surrealist, minimalistic lines that accentuated the features of some kind of animal. When he asked, once, his brother had made him guess, only to reveal later on that he was the crow. When he had asked why, his brother merely stared the way he always did, with Sasuke unable to diffuse his thoughts, before dismissing him with a playful poke to the forehead.

"You're safe now," said the other, and that's when Sasuke saw the blood.

Where the masked man held his arm up to the slivers of moonlight, he saw gaudy smudges of red where his palms were, where he had attempted to push his brother away from him, the blood on the armor seeping into his skin, as his brother gripped his head tightly between the palms of his hands, the curved pinwheels coming alive in distorted Sharingan eyes—

Screaming, he threw himself back, in an attempt to pull himself away, out of the ANBU's reach. Clawing at the hand around his own, he hardly felt the pain that shuddered down his shoulder, as the other masked figure closed the distance between them, striking a point in his neck, sending him to sleep.

* * *

"Hokage-sama," The blond lowered his head respectfully, as the door swung shut behind him. A low thrum filled the air as it closed, sealing in all noise. The privacy barriers glowed from every surface in the room.

"How is he?" Hiruzen asked, focusing on the child through the altered looking glass. He had only managed to catch the end of Yamanaka Inoichi's subtle interrogation of the young boy, if it could even be called that. According to the ANBU members who found the boy, he had alternated between shrieking in hysterical terror and falling into debilitating silence. By the time Hiruzen had arrived at the department, the child had clung to the latter, sitting dejectedly as Inoichi attempted to pick at his brain, in every sense of the expression.

"I felt that it was best to forego a thorough encroachment, considering the circumstances." He frowned, unsurprised. Trauma victims tended to be more attuned to cerebral intrusion, though that same overt awareness left them just as susceptible, due to the mind overcompensating by honing in on perceived threats, leaving other spots unprotected.

"The fringes of his mind, they're frayed… though erratic," Inoichi continued, "like tectonic plates ramming into each other, disrupting their environment. From what I could see, it was a frenzied attempt at re-compartmentalizing to bury his memories of the event, but a poor one at that. He's trying to keep them down by keeping them out, and it's causing the images to resurface. The poor kid's torturing himself."

"Would sedation help?"

"It won't keep out the nightmares."

"You've confirmed the culprits?" If anyone could, he'd expect it to be the veteran interrogator before him. There was no-one he trusted in this department more than the blond, so secrecy at the present was the least of his concerns.

"Yes," Inoichi replied, "Just one. Uchiha Itachi, and it seems he caused the wound on the kid's shoulder too. He resisted aid and almost tore the wound deeper when they first brought him in. Gazelle was afraid he'd twist his own arm off, and knocked him out so Rabbit could treat him. Kid woke up screaming, though. We've kept all ANBU personnel away from him ever since."

"I'd like you to keep monitoring him. Have him moved to the hospital's restricted wing, and seal off the entire floor. Watch him from the next room, if you have to. I'll assign an ANBU squad to watch him from the shadows." Hiruzen sighed. Normally he'd assign two, but with the massacre, the village's stability came into question, and he'd need every platoon available to keep the crisis contained. He figured it would only be a matter of hours before the Fire Daimyo sent a plethora of demands and queries his way.

"Have all ANBU present at the scene debriefed," he added, "and all original copies of the reports are to be personally delivered to me, for my eyes only. I take it that there were no civilian witnesses?"

"None, sir. The crowd gathered much later, but by then, Hippo's squad had already set up a perimeter."

Hiruzen directed his attention back to the boy, whose dispirited gaze was honed in on the paper cup before him. A familiar weariness surfaced like a yoke on aging bones. He hadn't felt this disheartened since Minato's untimely sacrifice several years back, with the council's pressure riding on his shoulders, bearing down on him as he was forced to make the decision that no-one else could—to name Uzumaki Naruto a hero, while keeping his heritage in the dark. He had come to regret his decision at times, after mitigating the first two years of assassination attempts by implementing a generationally-restricted law as well as dealing out heavy-handed executions as a response to the widespread animosity towards the boy.

Uchiha Sasuke was no different—the poor boy had been a casualty of a stratagem that had threatened to spiral into civil war. The boy's own father had been a chief executor in the Uchiha clan's machinations, and the village was still recovering from the destruction dealt by the Kyuubi all those years ago. Without Minato around to quell the rumors, the village had successively placed the blame on their military police, which consequently fuelled the developing enmity between the once legendary clan and the village that they called home.

As for Itachi, the teen had been a whole other gambit in the grand scheme of things, and a casualty that made Hiruzen wonder if it was all worth it, in the end. He turned his gaze away from the boy in the adjoining room. It wouldn't do to second guess himself now.

The seals glowed brightly for a moment before lulling to a dim state of stasis as the door opened, revealing a figure that Hiruzen would recognize more easily than his own shadow. He had wondered when the man would show up.

"Danzo."

"Hiruzen." The one-eyed man responded with something akin to a nod, settling beside him. With a short bow, Inoichi dismissed himself from the room. Danzo's eye followed the interrogator's departure.

"I'm told you're relocating the survivor?"

"_Sasuke_," Hiruzen replied sharply—it was always in Danzo's nature to conveniently forget a victim's name, "I'm relocating him, yes. Once the ANBU are done with cleaning up and crowd control, I've instructed them to reinforce the old seals. Only the boy and those with my permission will be able to enter the compound from now on."

"And if the traitor returns?" Danzo interjected, and Hiruzen heard the soft sneer that lined the man's voice, "Those seals bore the blood restriction, if I recall correctly. What's to stop him from returning to the scene of the crime?"

"Adjustments will be made," he appeased, already prepared for Danzo's incoming verbal barrage, "we took a blood sample from the boy's injury to weave into the restriction. If Itachi returns, he'll find the modifications… unrelenting."

"You'll take my counsel on the bodies, at least?"

He paused. "Incineration," he offered, a hand already raised in an attempt to mollify his long-time rival's response.

"_You would raze the bloodline incessantly?_" Danzo demanded, incredulous. "Granted, their sacrifice was great in number, but their eyes are a _paragon _of our military power. Our village already runs the risk of war with foreign entities, and you would let the clan's sacrifice _go to waste_? Many of our own have been out of commission due to loss of orbital function, and this would _change_ all of that. The Sharingan would give us the upper hand, as evidenced by Hatake Kakashi—"

"—who, in turn, is also susceptible to greater chakra exhaustion as a result of being from a different clan."

"A reasonable exchange for _heightened foresight and unparalleled mimicry_, not to mention its devastating effectiveness against all forms of genjutsu out there."

"He's also a genius, which I'm sure allayed the transition. Lesser shinobi would not survive the Sharingan's adverse effects—"

"_Lesser shinobi? _Do you really think so little of the capabilities of your own military, Hiruzen?"

"I think only of their wellbeing, Danzo. You know that." A heavy sigh followed. "I also don't believe it's wise to allow the Sharingan to surface again, especially in such abundance. You _know _what the villagers associate those eyes to—"

Danzo scoffed, his gaze lingering on the privacy seals that soundproofed the room, before meeting Hiruzen's own.

"They have the _Jinchuuriki_ for that, old friend, which you happily offered up to them on a silver platter." If he had been an inexperienced genin, he might have flinched at that retort. He knew that Danzo was still sore about that moot point; the man had wanted to keep Naruto's burden under wraps by dissolving his heritage and raising him in the shadows as a sharpened tool for the village. He, on the other hand, had wanted Naruto to be recognized as a national hero. In Kumogakure, carriers of the tailed beasts were revered as heroes and treated with the respect they deserved. He had hoped for the same with Naruto, despite the fact that what came to pass mirrored the treatment of Suna's own carrier to a certain degree.

What gave him hope was the blond child's unwavering smile and his determination to overcome the hatred by becoming the best and achieving the title of Hokage—the strongest of all. With his heritage, Hiruzen had no doubt that the boy would achieve his dream. When Naruto achieved the title of chuunin, he planned to tell him the truth about his birthright to celebrate the momentous occasion.

"Let sleeping dogs lie," was his response, "the Sharingan is a tool of war, and it brings only misery. If Madara's own descendents learned nothing from his fall, what's to stop the rest of us from committing further acts of hubris? The corpses are to be burned." He would be resolute in this. "If I hear about any deviations from these orders, I will hold _you _accountable, old friend."

* * *

His mother had told him once, during dinner, that he had been named after a great man. The Sandaime Hokage's own father, she had said, famous for the Sarutobi clan's initial rise to fame, with his infamous monkey-style taijutsu. All of which was eventually overshadowed by the great ascension of his own son, but those who knew Konoha's history well never forgot who it was that first partnered with the Great Monkey King Enma, and secured his eternal loyalty to the Sarutobi clan.

"What about Itachi?" he had asked, recalling no lessons in history that talked about a famous ninja with that name. He knew it had to be special, as according to his academy instructor, nobody else had had that name either. He had always attributed it to Itachi's status of being the clan's once-in-a-lifetime genius, thinking that their parents hadn't named him after anyone because they wanted _him_ to be the first of his name, the one from whom all others would be named.

The fact that Sasuke was named after another underscored his father's expectation that he would also, like brother, bring great honor to their family—even if he was far out of Itachi's league.

He'd be like Shisui, he told himself. He didn't know if he wanted to be like his own father—though he always expected that he'd become an elder of the clan, eventually, while Itachi would lead it. Like Mitokado Homura to the Sandaime Hokage. He had always fancied the thought.

Waking up in the fluorescent room with a bandaged shoulder and a parched throat hadn't thrown him off so much as being approached by a stranger in a dark coat telling him that he was safely hidden in ANBU's T&I division. The man had introduced himself as Yamanaka Inoichi—_a familiar name, like it belonged to someone else he knew, whom he just couldn't place_—before taking the seat adjacent to his. A paper cup of something warm and sweet was all they gave him, which made him sick to the core, but he stomached it anyway, if only to quench his dying thirst.

The silence that followed had been dampening.

Minutes felt like hours as the man asked question after question; none of which seemed imperative, all of which went over his head. It hit him, then—

—_the Yamanaka's clan specialty lies in all things pertaining to the mind, inclusive but not limited to mind-to-mind communication, psychological therapy, invasive interrogation techniques…_

He thought of Old Man Fukumori, his death long overdue.

The uncle and auntie who supplied the organic tomatoes his mother packed in his lunches, their bodies splattered like the fruits they sold.

He saw hollowed, obsidian eyes, devoid of doujutsu, and shattered orbital bones…

Sometimes the crimson eyes stared back at him, from a pool of thick, gaudy red.

And a shuriken would slice into his shoulder, as he looked up to see the ANBU perched on the electrical lines overhead—

—_not just any ANBU, no—_

Itachi, the one from whom all others would be named—

—_no, that's not right; he promised he'd teach him how to hunt—_

They had gone hunting for wild boar in the neck of the woods, but Sasuke had missed. His brother had told him to get stronger, and he had been relieved that his father hadn't seen. Their mother had made them a special dinner that night, just to show them how proud she was. Her two sons hunters now, she had cooed, and father had simply grunted before asking Itachi about his next assignment.

Itachi, in turn, asked about Sasuke's day.

—_how to swim—_

Shisui had died in the water. He couldn't remember if the clan fished anything out, with the current so strong it rivaled an ocean's pull.

Itachi had come back darker that day, while Sasuke learned to hold his breath.

—_how to drown—_

The pinwheels dashed all compassion as he met them head-on, his face trapped between his brother's bloody fingers as the world dropped dead around them, the blackness waltzing in… and there was something he couldn't quite place—

"—_You must know why I did it."_

"—Sasuke?"

He fingered the cup, letting the stranger's voice draw him up as he siphoned that last thought away. If the eyes were windows to the soul, he wasn't planning on giving the Yamanaka a free pass anytime soon.

Drawing his knees up to his chest, he evoked the images once more.

* * *

**Next Chapter:**

"You would pull him down a darker road…" Hiruzen's expression was pained, his forehead creasing with lines that accentuated his age, but Danzo merely scoffed.

"Hundreds dead, and you don't think he's already found it? His brother's a traitor, for all given purposes, and we cannot run the risk of this boy doing the same. I can mold him into a warrior this village needs."

Feedback would be much appreciated.


	2. Chapter Two: Anchor

**Disclaimer: **Danzo is the boss of emphasis. As of this chapter, I think I own a Hyuuga… my very own caged bird.

* * *

**Paradigm Shift**

_By intoxicatedasphyxiation_

* * *

**.02**

The restricted wing of Konoha's General Hospital was a place that most shinobi could find with ease, despite the fact that it was unlisted on the hospital's guest directory. Stationed in a place of prominence amidst the quotidian hustle and bustle of daily comings and goings, it served to house the most classified of admitted patients—from foreign ministers seeking private treatment and ANBU agents whose identities were clandestine, down to captured prisoners from brutal border skirmishes and other foreign agents who were too severely incapacitated to undergo interrogation.

Inoichi could count the number of doctors authorized to work in this section on the fingers of one hand.

The ward was in the western corner of the building, accessible through the third floor staircase of Block B, offering a splendid view of the Hokage Monument. He oftentimes thought that the view was detrimental when housing foreign agents, though if they _were_ conscious, they were usually shipped off to T&I within a blink. It didn't matter if they were on the brink of death—the interrogation unit was more than equipped to keep those teetering on the edge alive.

Though open to all citizens of Konoha, and to an extent—the populace of Hi no Kuni as a whole, the hospital operated on an occupational priority based system, where active shinobi were offered immediate services, regardless of tenure. Civilians were encouraged to visit the smaller clinics scattered all over town, in an attempt to permeate the lesser injuries and illnesses, in order to centralize the General Hospital as a place where the most exigent and critical of afflictions were treated.

Currently, the entire fourth floor of the restricted sector had been sectioned off, patrolled by a single unit of ANBU, whose four members had alternated between watching the Uchiha survivor from the shadows and patrolling the corridors. Falcon and Panther had been on the prowl for the last thirty-six minutes, occasionally checking up on Inoichi himself, who was monitoring the child from the next room, through the use of cameras and video monitors that showcased the boy from every angle of the room.

In exactly four minutes, they'd switch out with Gazelle and Rabbit. There was a flicker in the corner of the screen on the third monitor, and judging from the source of origin, he figured one of the two was getting impatient. He frowned. It was highly uncharacteristic for seasoned ANBU personnel to display such flagrant impatience during sentinel assignments, even if they weren't the most enthralling engagements out there. Those specially assigned to watch over the Hokage were expected to be the epitome of professionalism, and all others were expected to emulate that same level of perfection befitting only the cream of the crop.

He saw the flicker again and identified the chakra flare as Rabbit's.

"Have Rabbit report to me during the switch," Inoichi announced when Falcon propped open the door. With a nod, the agent promptly disappeared. Panther filtered into the space he left behind.

"Problem?" he queried, leaning casually against the door frame.

Inoichi paused. "Nothing that warrants any immediate action," he chose carefully, "I merely want to hear a medic's opinion on this." Panther's posture seemed to loosen up at that. The blond man silently congratulated himself on hunches confirmed and words well chosen.

Though not as tightly welded as the rapport he shared with Falcon, Panther had always demonstrated a psychological tendency towards overprotecting his fellow teammates, even if his sentiments weren't necessarily reciprocated. A good characteristic that complemented Konoha's ideal shinobi profile of teamwork and intra-unit cooperation, the negative attributes of such a feature included the potential to become excessively overbearing.

Inoichi had simply chalked it up as _oldest child syndrome_. The most responsible of the lot, the late-twenty-something had had plenty of practice as the oldest son of a hard-boiled jounin father. According to the intensive background checks conducted annually for every ANBU operative, Panther continuously addressed his father as 'sir' or 'captain', and never by anything less.

The addition of Gazelle and Rabbit onto Falcon and Panther's team after the latter's separation from Hound's two rotations ago had come with a shaky start, with Gazelle coming in from a solo operative background and Rabbit as a complete neophyte to the corps. Six months in, however, and the unit had cohesively survived their first rotation thanks to excellent coordination through Panther's lead and a sheer avalanche of really, really good luck.

As chief interrogator, Inoichi was aware of Panther's pending resignation request—this would be both his and Falcon's last stint in the service once the next rotation came round. Gazelle had in turn applied for a transfer back to solo wet work—both within the T&I division as well as on the field. The Sandaime had already signed off on that; that particular operative's skills reaped the best results when unaided by others. Rabbit would be easily siphoned off to any other team with an open position—a medic in the black ops was hard enough to acquire, so the demand for his skill set was high, especially on teams with successive assignments.

The older man was sure a little beguiling on his end would go unnoticed. By pretending to solicit Rabbit's expertise, he more than guaranteed Panther's cooperation and noninterference. Few shinobi cared about the medical aspects of things; even fewer cared to discuss them.

Inoichi took the tilt of the younger man's head as a sign of acknowledgment just as Rabbit filed into the room, Panther clapping the other's shoulder on the way out.

One hand-sign later and the door swung itself shut, activating the two-fold privacy seals embedded on all six surfaces. If the medic hadn't been wearing a mask, he might have caught sight of the speculative expression on the operative's face.

At present, Inoichi favored the direct approach. "Is there a reason you'd prefer to be elsewhere, Hyuuga-kun?" The teen's chakra flare seemed equivalent to a flinch. "I'm sure Hiashi-san will understand any and all delays on your part—as a member of the corps, you answer first and foremost to the Sandaime Hokage, do you not?"

_Did the kid's finger just twitch?_ He raised an eyebrow at the gesture. One digit up and he would have had grounds to label the kid hostile—the subtlest of gestures signaled the most pivotal responses during field work. A sharp twitch of an index finger indicated the presence of hostile agents, and he didn't miss the way the kid's hand slid down instinctively towards the kunai holster strapped to his leg. It was probably a subconscious reaction to the blond's headstrong approach, but towards a superior, the display was profoundly unconscionable.

"I'm aware of the appeal and opportunity that this tragedy presents to the Hyuuga clan," he offered, "but I'm also aware of the child's rights, under the laws of his clan. Though the clan may be indisposed, in every sense of the term, Uchiha Sasuke's wellbeing still falls under their jurisdiction—and by way of succession, this means his own. And should psychological impositions prevent him from making rational decisions, all dominion falls to the commanding officer and chief of all armed forces in this village, which makes that Hokage-sama himself."

He glanced back at the screens—Panther and Falcon had long since melted into the shadows of the next room, taking into account the angles of the cameras and any potential blind-spots. They were experienced enough that he couldn't pinpoint their positions from the monitors alone, but rather by guesswork. How he would have done it, had he been assigned the task instead.

"My clan has made no decision on the boy—"

"—but you don't deny interest." Had he been less professional, he might have smirked. Shikaku may have been the tactical genius in their circle, but Inoichi had been the one who emphasized on finding and twisting semantic discrepancies to one's advantage.

"Please don't treat my explication of his circumstances as an invitation to start exploiting any loopholes your clan may foresee… or in any case, attempt to effectuate, because as chief inquisitor on the boy's case, I'm the one who gets to make the final call on the boy's mental wellbeing. If it means that I'll have to stoop to playing hardball on his behalf, I won't hesitate to do so." He let up on the stern tone his voice had taken, his features softening as he followed through, "My chief concern is his psychological wellbeing. I won't tolerate your clan—or rather, any clan's—political connivances over the boy's future."

"The undisputable fact remains that our clan would provide the best resources to aid in the boy's development of his bloodline limit," the Hyuuga stated frigidly.

"I could argue that your clan's security measures are questionable," Inoichi replied coolly. "What with the kidnapping attempt on your clan's heiress a few years back." It was a cheap shot, but Inoichi wasn't the type to pull any punches over this. It was an undeniable fact that the Hyuuga clan's lax in security had resulted in the tragic martyrdom of a fellow clan member. One misstep back then and Konoha would've been plunged into another war, so closely after the peace talks and negotiations with Iwa, and not to mention—the slow recovery after the Kyuubi's rampage through the village.

"_You_ step out of line, _sir_." Inoichi didn't miss the way the branch member shifted forward, his fingers clenching and unclenching in an attempt to contain his anger.

The older man straightened his posture, harnessing his chakra in a manner that demonstrated cultivated proficiency. Though close to retirement, the clan head was no mere pushover, and he fixated the younger man with a stoic glare that articulated not only his authority, but also his utter intolerance towards the fledgling's behavior.

"I believe you're the one stepping out of line, son," he remarked assuredly, "I may not be your clan head or your commanding officer, but I am still your superior. As assigned by the Hokage, _you_ report to _me_."

He was sure that under the mask was a glare that could drop a boar at twenty paces.

"Let me remind you one last time that all observations and discussions pertaining to Uchiha Sasuke are classified under the ANBU Secrecy Act, and are strictly designated as S-Rank until further notice. Hiashi-san can wait for the council assembly." With a wave, he turned back to the overhead monitors. "You're dismissed."

* * *

"Jurou-san," greeted the short-haired woman as she swiped her access card across the sensor, before coding in the pin.

The chuunin manning the desk offered her a brilliant smile. "Aika-san… are you filling in for Matsumoto-sama today?" He skimmed the list on his clipboard, before tapping on a name. "Hokage-sama informed the department that this might happen, but I'll still need you to sign off on the authorization before you go in." He pulled out a form, making a checkmark against the line at the bottom. "Just for verification purposes," he added, his lips pulling into a line, "Hokage-sama was adamant against any last minute replacements. He was very specific about the list."

"Of course," she allowed, walking over to complete the task. "There hasn't been a security measure in place this rigid since Orochimaru's defection." A quick initial and an inked thumbprint later, the woman excused herself into the next room.

"Kazuo-san," she nodded, addressing the tokubetsu jounin in the prepping room. Removing her personal effects, she put on the white regulation coat and sanitized gloves, as well as the netting for her hair.

She turned to her colleague. "I hope your day has been well."

"The skies are getting darker," was his reply, to which she offered a sharp nod—a confirmation that their agents were in place.

"The area has been swept for bugs and other listening devices, and all unnecessary seals have been decommissioned. The privacy and deadlock barriers have been put into effect as of 2200 hours the night before. Matsumoto Saburo remains under our surveillance—he has confined himself to his bedroom," Kazuo briefed, "he remains convinced he contracted the illness from his daughter, who has also been confined to her room."

"And my anchor?" Aika asked, aware that they weren't able to orchestrate the original Shimizu Aika's disappearance as easily as they had originally planned. Due to their leader's overwhelming foresight of the Sandaime's paranoia over the disposal of the clan's cadavers, they had had to abandon all attempts at simple subterfuge—including but not limited to the disposal and replacement of several key employees at the T&I morgue. Instead, they had had to directly infiltrate the department, manipulate the working shifts several months in advance, while also simulating and perfecting fabricated memories for implantation into the minds of their chosen subjects.

When the real Shimizu Aika woke up, she would be completely convinced that she participated in the incineration of the Uchiha clan the evening before. As for Kazuo, he had been one of the few agents who had directly infiltrated the corps, apprenticed to Matsumoto-sama himself.

"Safely asleep and under watch," he answered, "The same can be said for Fujiwara's. He and Onishi are with the burners in the back. We should get started. Do you have the replacements?"

She withdrew a scroll, breaking the seal before laying the parchment flat across the dissection tablet. Kazuo joined her to begin a series of synchronized hand seals, which promptly activated the insignia, and several columns of customized holding tubes filled the table. Half the tubes were filled with obsidian eyes. Every tube was filled to the brim with formaldehyde.

"Take only full pairs," she instructed, "we're to leave the single eyes alone."

"Would they not be a waste?" Kazuo inclined his head, "we have more than enough samples to replace every undamaged specimen."

"It is not our place to question his orders." He took that as silent agreement on her part. "Even so, we'll still be obtaining the majority—the number of undamaged pairs is exceptionally high."

"Let's get to work then."

* * *

"A visual recorder embedded into the incinerator? That's… excessively paranoid, even for you."

Danzo regarded the man before him with an evaluating stare. He had come to underestimate his rival's capabilities over the years, but there were times like these where Hiruzen truly surprised him, and had they been teenagers, would have put him on edge.

Schooling his features, he deftly maneuvered himself closer to the towers of paperwork that lined the large desk, catching a glimpse of the photographs spread out across the hard, wooden surface. Judging by the angle, the camera must have been imbedded deeply into a hidden panel on the inner ceiling of the machine. He imagined that heatproof seals would have had to have been carved into the device. The positioning allowed for the monitoring of the bodies as they were loaded onto the belt, as well as a thorough view of the corpse's upper body throughout the incineration.

Danzo imagined that these photographs were just for show—Hiruzen would have long since watched the videos in their entirety.

"Did you bring these photographs to rub salt into my wound?" he let a scowl mar his jaw.

"Don't be dramatic," Hiruzen retorted, "I was merely ensuring that my orders were being followed, to the dot." He fingered a particularly gruesome image of an Uchiha whose left half of the face was completely mangled, while his right Sharingan remained hauntingly activated even after death.

"For a clan that prided itself on its battle prowess, it sure appears as though most were struck down before they even had a chance to activate their legacy," Danzo noted with a sneer, as he sifted carelessly through the scattered images. Privately, he lauded the excellent implantation work of his operatives—not a single extraction had seemed out of place. Leaving the single eyes in had been another fortuitous call on his behalf—so long as his rival caught a few glimpses of the activated Sharingan left untouched in the corpses, he would be easily appeased by the dormancy of the rest. He had gone to painstaking trouble to attain eyes that matched those of the Uchiha clan—contrary to popular belief, black eyes were not in fact a dominant gene.

"Really," Hiruzen said sadly, "who in their clan would have ever seen this coming?"

"Betrayal often comes from those we would least suspect…" Danzo mused, "You'd _think_ the Uchiha clan would have learned that from their most notorious ancestor. The greatest of them all _always_ brought about their fall. This is merely history repeating itself."

"Comparing Itachi to Madara is hardly appropriate…" the Sandaime frowned disapprovingly.

"Yet to the public, they'll be no different." Danzo supplied, "Thus is the fate of those who choose to make the harder decision."

"And his brother?" Their tragedy only spells the same."

"And is it our fault if one should perish to the other?" Danzo said coldly, "If things work out accordingly, the younger will restore his clan's honor and live out the rest of his days in _defense_ of this village."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm merely suggesting that you give him to me," Danzo said nonchalantly, eyeing the Hokage Monument furtively. As a child, his shinobi mindset had oftentimes found it hard to wrap around the fact that the most prominent personage in the village would always sit with his back wide open to paneled glass windows. In time, he had eventually surmised the decision as one that spoke testaments about the appointed Hokage's strength. After all, what did the strongest ever have to fear? The elite personnel who watched from the shadows were situated to eliminate all further blind spots. At present moment, however, they were hidden in the shadows of the roof, far outside the room's privacy barriers—which distorted even their ability to lip-read.

"Three times you've asked, old friend, but my answer remains the same." A sigh followed the weary voice, as the leader shuffled the photos into a collective pile. The one-eyed man knew that Hiruzen was deliberately not meeting his gaze.

"Then it would be kinder to kill him now," dropping all pretense, his voice resumed its hardened edge, "The boy is alone, and we both know that loneliness in itself is a slow, miserable death. Even rage fizzles itself out, once the damage is done."

"Some would argue that your methods are no different."

"My methods, old friend, leave no room for such error. The boy would learn to channel all that into a single-minded goal: the protection of this village. Leave him as he is now, and he will only deteriorate."

"You would pull him down a darker road…" Hiruzen's expression was pained, his forehead creasing with lines that accentuated his age, but Danzo merely scoffed.

"Hundreds dead, and you don't think he's already found it? His brother's a traitor, for all given purposes, and we cannot run the risk of this boy doing the same. I can mold him into a warrior this village needs."

"Rest is what he needs—"

"Like your student? Or students, should I say. Rest is what you gave them, and they both left this village behind without a second thought. Never mind the traitor, whom you also gave a wide berth…" He glared at his long-time rival, who buried his face in the palms of his hands.

A short silence followed, and Danzo turned to leave. He paused at the door, a critical gaze honed in on the seated man once more.

"Leave the boy alone, Danzo," Hiruzen said, looking up at the departing figure, "there's no need to destroy that clan any further—it has already suffered enough."

"You make me out as the monster," Danzo replied, undoing the privacy seals with a yank of the door, "but I don't want to make a trophy of the boy. Unlike the Hyuuga. I hope you're aware that they've already started making their move—how long do you think you'll last against their pull?"

* * *

**Next Chapter:**

"Heard this is your last stint," said their former captain, his silver hair soaking wet and succumbing to gravity by clinging to the sides of his face. The blood was sliding off his uniform and pooling at his feet as he unbuckled the armored chest plating, letting the water wash him down.

"Hokage-sama's being lenient; he offered us sentinel duty instead of a hit-or-miss S-rank to send us off."

A chuckle followed. "You really believe those rumors?"

"What, about the suicidal sendoffs?" the oldest of the group responded, "Hell yeah, I do. Koichi from Delta III was assigned a misranked mission. Turns out his S-rank was really SS, considering the number of hostiles in place. The guy was barely breathing by the time he stumbled through the gates, and he was so disfigured his own sister couldn't recognize him." A silver eyebrow was raised.

"So what kind of assignment did you guys get? Did the Daimyo come to town?" he queried, removing his bloodied arm guards. "Security seems pretty tight."

An uneasily silence fell as the duo merely eyed each other arduously, as the third began to strip off his turtle-necked shirt.

"Well, about that…" said the other, a senbon working its way nervously around his mouth, "we know you haven't been around…"

Feedback would be much appreciated.


	3. Chapter Three: Survivors

**Disclaimer: **I own the communal showers and not much else.

**Dedication:** To ninja-v and all my reviewers thus far. You guys keep me in the game.

* * *

**Paradigm Shift**

_By intoxicatedasphyxiation_

* * *

**.03**

"_He took a part of me_," Shisui mouthed, the older boy's voice fading in and out behind a translucent filter that blurred his vision and kept the other out of reach.

Sasuke struggled to scream. _What do you mean?_ But the words were muted the moment they left his lips. Clearing his throat in an attempt to find his voice, a wave of hysteria threatened to overwhelm him as the static silence plagued him with the intensity of white noise on an empty radio frequency.

"… _my legacy, as much as yours_—" A bloodied hand covered an even bloodier eye. He saw a smile that was neither here nor there. It carried a knowing edge, as though it knew a secret that would give its owner the upper hand. Not quite a smirk, not quite a guarantee—

"_Promise me._" There went the voice again, and this time it was not quite Shisui, but someone else—

Someone familiar… the name was on the fringe of his mind, the tip of his tongue. He knew how to say it; he'd said it a thousand times before—

A man in a porcelain mask knelt before him, movements unhurried as a hand reached out to cup his cheek. Sasuke leaned into the gesture, as the older boy's thumb brushed something away from under his eye. The gesture repeated, intensifying with each stroke, and Sasuke cringed under the grasp, as the hand withdrew. Drying bloodstains coated the other's thumb.

Sasuke reached up to where the older one had touched his cheek. Thick dots of red imprinted on his fingertips as he lowered his hand.

_What… is this?_

"—_only the beginning of the end_," said the voice behind the mask.

"Shisui?" Sasuke asked wearily. He knew the question had been cast, even if he couldn't quite find his own voice.

"… _not quite_," said the presence, a tilt of his head emphasizing his contemplation of the query, "_but he is a part of me._" Sasuke's forehead creased in confusion.

"… _for this_—" the voice trailed off wistfully, a mumble under his breath.

_What?_ Sasuke's eyes snapped up, consternation coursing through his system as he strained forward, afraid to miss out on whatever the unnamed figure said. _Every word is important_, his own body instilled.

"_I'm sorry_," the individual repeated, louder this time, with conviction, "… _for this…_"

"I don't understand…" the younger projected. "_Who… _are you?"

He felt the sadness in waves, though the figure remained composed with a self-imposed stillness.

Reaching up to his face, the vision in his left eye blurred, mirroring Shisui's. Raising his arm, Sasuke dragged a sleeve across his eye to halt the stream of blood, but the viscous substance soaked into his shirt, permeating his skin.

"H-Help… help me…" he stuttered, trembling as he stumbled backwards.

The masked man reached forward to grasp his shoulders, but Sasuke felt the darkness closing in, like shadows with invisible hands embalming him, reaping him inward towards their embrace. Staring into the veiled holes where the man's eyes lingered, he saw a flash of crimson with dark wheels spinning in their midst.

"_When they're done…_" said the waning voice instructively, "_you'll find me again._" The older boy reached for one of the shadows holding the younger down, peeling it off like a tangible substance. In the fading light, Sasuke saw that it resembled a crumbling tree root. "_Only then will you learn all there is to know._"

_How will I find you? _His body screamed, as a thick shadow clamped over his mouth, stifling all murmurs and inaudible breaths of air.

The red eyes faded to black as the masked man stood up, his index and middle fingers forming a familiar seal as they extended towards Sasuke's face.

Reflexively shutting his eyes against the hostile gesture, he felt a gentle prodding as the digits pressed lightly against his open forehead.

"_Right in here_," said the voice, resonating like a whisper in his ear.

With a gasp, Sasuke's eyes shot open, widely staring in both shock and recognition as he put the fading figure to a name—

* * *

"_Itachi—_"

There was a perceptible shift of movement in the room as all eyes turned towards the young boy resting on the isolated bed.

"Sasuke-kun," said a mellow, wizened voice as the addressee blinked awake. He looked up to see a hoary old man in distinguished white robes looking down at him from the side of his bed. Years of decent upbringing clicked in his mind as he put a title to the face.

"_The Sandaime…_" he croaked, wheezing as he strained forward, in an attempt to sit up, his eyes scanning the room for a source of hydration. He took in the other figures standing at various distances from where he slept. The tall Yamanaka, he recognized, but as for the other two… he recognized the uniform, but not their masks. They were also standing further back, one leaning by the door, while the other stood by a curtained window. Piercing fluorescent lighting illuminated the room—a different sort from the fixtures used in the previous T&I holding room. While those had sought to augment the shadows, the current lighting served to eradicate all sources of darkness, highlighting a strange, sanitary feeling befitting a hospital.

Looking down at the garment draping his body, Sasuke figured his guesstimate was right. He was wearing the in-patient dress robe of Konoha's General Hospital.

Sensing his need, the Hokage signaled one of the ANBU, who sauntered over to a corner, before returning with a transparent measuring jug and a glass of water.

Hesitantly, Sasuke took the glass from the stranger, his eyes roaming over to the Sandaime who nodded in confirmation, before gulping down the contents of the glass. The Yamanaka gave the young Uchiha a pensive look, before jotting down a quick note on the clipboard in his hand.

The adults remained silent as the boy eyed the jug, and the ANBU moved to refill his glass.

"Sasuke-kun," the Hokage repeated, as he downed the drink, "are you aware of—"

"—Hokage-sama." A third ANBU entered the room abruptly, right into Sasuke's direct line of sight. Stiffening, he dropped the glass onto his lap, before pulling his knees up to his chest.

The Yamanaka's eyes closed in muted frustration, palming his face with an open hand. His reaction must have spoken volumes, because the Hokage shot the newcomer a look that forced the man to cede sheepishly. The other two ANBU remained impassive, giving nothing away.

"What is it?" his leader voiced displeasingly, as the man moved to approach the bed. One gesture from the old man and the incomer halted, retreating back towards the door. Sasuke saw the Sandaime's evaluating gaze as the tension wore off his chest—he felt more at ease as the old man kept the soldier at bay.

Sasuke recognized the latecomer as the ANBU who had grabbed him in the waiting room. His mask looked different now, the blood red brushstrokes embellishing the white splotches of porcelain—no longer dark like a raven's gaze. The young boy mused darkly about the similarities of the two colours under moonlight.

"Rabbit?" the Hokage chimed; as Sasuke and the ANBU eyed each other speculatively, the younger's fingernails digging into his shins.

Withdrawing a scroll from a pouch on his hip, the agent held it out to his teammate, who served as a bridge, passing the scroll from Rabbit to the outstretched hand of the Hokage, while the former held his position by the door.

"Dismissed," said the Hokage, and codename Rabbit vanished with a succinct bow.

Sasuke maintained his guarded posture as he peered curiously over his knees at the scroll in the shinobi commander's hand. Breaking the seal with a swipe of his thumb, the timeworn man bit back a pained sigh as the elite guards averted their focus away from the contents of the parchment. Rolling up the document, the venerable leader tucked it away into his sleeve, before fixing Sasuke with a soothing gaze.

The Uchiha didn't question his sincerity, but he spotted the weariness in the old man's wrinkles and age spots.

"It pains me to have to tell you this," he started, and Sasuke felt an age-old hand folding over his own, "but there were no other survivors."

Sasuke fixed the door straight ahead with a rigid stare that could have frozen a heater. A hollow, lingering emptiness constricted his chest. He found himself breathing through his nose.

The man squeezed his hand and he pulled away, tucking his jaw into his knees.

"So I'm alone," he whispered, in a tone he couldn't recognize—he'd never had it before. A contrite expression hardened the old man's gaze.

"The perpetrator," the Hokage continued, "your brother… he got away."

The Yamanaka shifted imperceptibly, fixing his superior with a confounding look.

"The village will provide everything you need," he added, "you'll be provided with the best care, and both Inoichi-san and I will be here for you to help you through this. If we're not around, you can be sure that Panther and Falcon will be watching over you." He paused. "There will always be someone here for you, Sasuke-kun. When you feel that you're ready to return to the academy, your friends will be there too."

Sasuke fixed him with a biting look.

"_Then,_" the young boy stated, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, "_I have nothing at all._"

* * *

They met at headquarters in the shanty side of town, where the buildings oftentimes blurred into the street lines, enhancing the image of a decaying urban industry that fell short of an airborne biological attack. To the public, ANBU HQ was listed as a part of the Administration Building, in a restricted area of the tower, and the façade was aptly well maintained. Any shinobi worth their salt, however, knew that the real division was hidden away in a place that few strangers would ever find. Some even speculated that the various divisions were split off in separate locations, rather than housed in one generalized compound.

None of these speculations had ever been confirmed.

"Even drunk," the one known as Falcon acknowledged, while the duo stood in full admiration of the eroded landmark, "the goddamn HQ does not get any prettier."

"You've got to learn to be less shallow," Panther shot back, "she's a beauty on the inside."

"Hey now—I've been a one building man for the past, what, six and a half rotations? I even took out a mortgage on my apartment just to keep the address, which I haven't been inside of for the past three months. Don't blame a guy for wanting a little variety on the side, now." Ripping off his mask, he pressed the senbon between his lips, teething the thing as he coded in at the side of the building, with Panther trailing in behind him.

A polished, marbled surface greeted them as they entered the great hallway, where a retired ANBU manned the front desk—a great library of files filling the wall behind him. Their contents ranged from architectural blueprints of various civilian corporations throughout the elemental nations to the auditing details of several companies' tax returns over the past five years. All of which remained updated and accurate; none of which were relevant at all to the elite shinobi corps that secretly resided there.

"Falcon and Panther," the attendant enunciated as he scanned the in-house missions register. He checked off twice on the scroll, looking up. "Welcome back."

With a casual wave, Falcon stepped through the corridor around the desk, the chakra barriers glowing all around him with an approving, placating electric blue. Panther followed after, the seals illuminating the air around him with a crisp glow.

All intruders and impersonators would burn to the twentieth degree, as the number of volts charged into the seals left nothing to chance. Its chakra recognition system was top-notch too, as to avoid any discrepancies caused by any simulacra.

Taking the nearest staircase down to the general shower area, they were met by a variegated profusion of other off-duty agents in the locker area. The place bustled with activity most often during the afterhours. Tonight seemed no different, with several operatives moving quickly, donning their uniforms as they prepared to move out.

"Yo, Tenzou," Falcon greeted jovially, swooping in on the familiar presence as he infused his chakra into the ingrained seal on his locker. "Been a while. Where've you been, locked away in snow county?"

Panther winced at the reference, removing his own mask and tilting his head up in acknowledgment of his old teammate.

Their wide-eyed junior greeted them with a self-deprecating scowl.

"Something like that," he answered, sighing heavily as he shoved his gear into a brown duffel bag. He wore the standard chuunin uniform, sans his usual protective faceplate. Shaking out the water from his hair, he heaved the bag over his shoulder, his free hand slamming his locker shut. "We just got back an hour ago and Hokage-sama's already calling us in. Successive missions are shitholes to the highest degree. T&I won't be letting up on us either; they've already got us scheduled in for the next three days." Dark circles pooled under his eyes. "What've you guys been up to?"

"Sentinel stuff," said Panther. "Our shift resumes in six hours. Hokage-sama was kind enough to lend us a temporary switch."

Falcon snorted, the senbon forking in the corner of his mouth. "More like babysitting, is what it is."

"What," Tenzou asked, a tired grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, "you guys are guarding the Hokage now?"

"Don't make fun of that," Falcon replied with false seriousness, "it's the highest honor out there."

Panther shook his head as he concentrated on removing his armor and flexing his arms where they had gone stiff from all the daily inaction.

"No, seriously," a look of disbelief had plastered itself across the younger man's face, "_you two_ got assigned actual guard duty?"

"Well, we got _the _guard duty, if that's what you mean." Falcon allowed, shoving his armor into the locker and pulling out a navy blue, standardized shinobi shirt.

Tenzou frowned. "I don't understand the reference."

Falcon shot him a disbelieving look. "You know… the one everyone's been talking about? _The Incident?_"

The younger shook his head. "Sorry, Genma—I really don't get what you're talking about. I haven't been back for months, and I haven't had time to socialize between showering and checking in with the medic." He looked almost apologetic. "You guys'll have to fill me in."

"We're guarding Uchiha Sasuke, the one and only survivor of the Uchiha Clan Massacre." Genma lowered his voice with a seriousness that hadn't been there a moment ago. Tenzou's eyes widened at the revelation.

"This isn't something we should be discussing liberally," interjected his partner disapprovingly.

"Oh, _come on_, Raidou," Genma rolled his eyes, "everyone and their grandmother knows what happened there. And if they don't, they'll make it up themselves."

The elder of the pair shrugged indifferently, though his gaze maintained a semblance of reproach.

"_Whoa_, hold on, back up a bit there." Tenzou stared, dropping his bag by his feet. "_What_ happened?"

"The prodigy cracked," he explained, the senbon bobbing excitedly as he talked, "Itachi killed everyone and escaped, leaving only his brother alive. Our team found the kid first—well, our other half. Seems he stumbled home only to find everyone dead. We've been guarding him for days."

Their former teammate shot Raidou a questioning glance.

"He's serious," the man confirmed, now fully garbed in the standardized military uniform, his headband fastened tightly around his forehead. Unconsciously, he ran his hand over his scar.

"Well, damn. That… certainly changes things."

"That's the understatement of the year," Genma fired back. "That clan may have been full of pompous dicks, but their bloodline stood for something. I don't even want to begin to imagine what kind of damage control Hokage-sama'll have to dish out."

"At this rate, he may not even let us retire." Raidou pointed out.

"Kami-sama have mercy on the ones who're dispatched to kill the kid," Genma's eyes rolled up dramatically, "and please don't let it be us."

It was Raidou's turn to roll his eyes.

"Considering his feat," he offered, "he'll probably be listed under the S-ranked flee-on-sight category anyway. I highly doubt that the Hokage will waste his resources to track down a fugitive of that caliber."

"You think the captain could take him?" Genma asked, throwing out the thought. Though Raidou had been his commanding officer for the previous year, the two had never let the rank come between them, with the exception of their duty on the field. For many rotations before that, however, the pair had served under codename Hound, more famously known as Sharingan no Kakashi, or the Copy Ninja Hatake Kakashi. Tenzou had served alongside them in Team Alpha VI, replacing Gekkou Hayate midway after a mission-gone-wrong had ended the kenjutsu expert's career in the ANBU black ops.

It was during those many months that Hatake Kakashi validated his legendary status fiftyfold over, demonstrating his prowess in completing not only the missions thought impossible by all the other spooks in the division, but also in keeping his team alive. Wherever the Copy Ninja went, the mortality rate of Konoha nin went down. The man's personal mantra was to never leave a man behind, and those who had the rare opportunity to work with him knew that he was true to his word.

"He'd be the best choice for the job," Tenzou asserted immediately, "Sharingan for Sharingan, Kakashi-senpai's a genius too."

"The kid got ANBU captain'ed at thirteen." Genma rebutted.

"That's only because senpai joined the corps in his later teens. Had he joined younger, the end result would've been the same." Tenzou paused. "Also, he still holds the record for the highest number of successful missions. Usually the count goes down as the missions add up, but his has never been anything less than consistent."

"You keep count?" Raidou raised an eyebrow. Tenzou returned a look that said: _and you don't?_

"An implanted Sharingan can't hold up to the real thing, yet alone a full pair in the hands of a prodigious clan member." Genma reasoned. "Kakashi risks chakra exhaustion, and that's even before taking ninjutsu into account."

"Itachi also murdered his entire clan," Raidou added, "of doujutsu wielders. That has to be taken into consideration too." Tenzou glanced back and forth between his former teammates.

"Why are you guys even defending the traitor?" he asked, a cornered defensiveness edging into his voice, "If Kakashi-senpai can't take him down, nobody else can. He's more experienced than the kid, and that's taking into account the fact that he became chuunin at a much younger age. Even Itachi graduated a little later than that."

"_Whoa whoa whoa_," Genma assuaged, raising his hands in submission, "just playing devil's advocate here. You know we always root for the home team."

Tenzou fixated him with a skeptical glare.

Raidou chuckled. Nothing had changed since the kid came waltzing into their jaded team several score missions ago, in full, pre-set admiration of the quirky Sharingan wielder. Though his inclination for the man had taken a dive in the beginning, with all the subtle hazing, heightened performance pressure, and attempts to wash him out, it wasn't long before Tenzou regained his reverence for the silver-haired veteran, who went the furthest of distances to save his comrades from the shittiest of situations.

When their impeccable team had been thrown under scrutiny for reasons unknown and all members forcibly split, rumor had it that the legend himself had stormed into the Hokage's office, penning his resignation as he went, before an hour long discussion and insinuations of appeasement had been offered in return for his continued service at the corps. Nobody but their captain and the council seemed to know the true reason behind their separation, and the former had deterred all attempts to talk it out of him. The Hokage had been even less accommodating.

All Raidou knew was that he and Genma had been assigned to the same team, and that he had been promoted to the enviable position of squad leader himself. He was even presented with the white cloak to go with it, and all sorts of extra security clearances he hadn't needed. Tenzou, on the other hand, had been reassigned to Alpha VI, and all complications had narrowly subsided after that.

None of them referred to anyone other than the silver-haired genius as their captain. Raidou never took it personally since he naturally did the same.

"Where's the rest of your team, anyway?" he asked, and Tenzou rolled his shoulders.

"Keitaro's with T&I, while Shin's meeting Sandaime-sama round about…" he looked at the clock overhead, "now. Kakashi-senpai arrived just as I was finishing, so he should still be in there." He nodded towards the men's shower area. Reaching down to pick up his bag, he sent them a wave as he took a step towards the entrance. "Anyway, I'll see you guys later. I've got to run."

"Yeah, sure," Genma said, clapping him on the shoulder while Raidou returned the gesture with a nod.

"You think he knows?" Raidou asked, as soon as they were alone.

"Kakashi?"

"Yeah. About the massacre and all."

"It's possible," Genma supplied, the senbon clicking between his teeth, "what with him always being in the know and all."

"You think he'd take it well?" the older of the two elbowed his locker shut, as the other adjusted his bandana and strapped on his kunai holster, before shutting his own.

They made their way towards the designated shower area.

"The clan gave him shit for nearly a decade over his eye," Genma said callously, fingering a new senbon to replace the old one, "if that's what you're getting at."

"No, you know what I mean—" Raidou intimated, the stress lines creasing just above his nose.

He halted mid-phrase as they stepped into view of their former captain, who was standing under one of the communal shower installations, a hand pressed up against the wall as the man stood fully clothed under the stream of scorching hot water.

Sensing their presence, he met their advance with an ephemeral nod, his gloved fingers running through his hair in an attempt to scrub out the assemblage of gore.

They stood by the benches in the center of the room. His arm expertly blocked a proper view of his face. He reactively covered the lower half of his face as he turned; mismatched eyes greeting them before the foreign eye instinctively welded itself shut.

"Heard this is your last stint," said their former captain, his silver hair soaking wet and succumbing to gravity by clinging to the sides of his face. The blood was sliding off his uniform and pooling at his feet as he unbuckled the armored chest plating, letting the water wash him down.

"Hokage-sama's being lenient; he offered us sentinel duty instead of a hit-or-miss S-rank to send us off."

A chuckle followed. "You really believe those rumors?"

"What, about the suicidal sendoffs?" the oldest of the group responded, "Hell yeah, I do. Koichi from Delta III was assigned a misranked mission. Turns out his S-rank was really SS, considering the number of hostiles in place. The guy was barely breathing by the time he stumbled through the gates, and he was so disfigured his own sister couldn't recognize him." A silver eyebrow was raised.

"So what kind of assignment did you guys get? Did the Daimyo come to town?" he queried, removing his bloodied arm guards. "Security seems pretty tight."

An uneasily silence fell as the duo merely eyed each other arduously, as the third began to strip off his turtle-necked shirt.

"Well, about that…" said the other, a senbon working its way nervously around his mouth, "we know you haven't been around…"

Their captain fixed them with an impenetrable stare. Despite the many rotations spent together as a closely-knit unit, neither had been able to determine what the enigma was thinking whenever he donned that expression. It was neither judgmental nor passively pensive, and simply passed itself off as being completely unreadable.

Genma took the silence as encouragement to continue.

"The Uchiha clan is dead, barring two survivors. One being the perpetrator, Uchiha Itachi, who fled after massacring everyone save his brother." His hands were folded tightly in his pockets. "Our team was the first on the scene," he disclosed as an afterthought, "but by then, Itachi was long gone."

Raidou waited with bated breath for the child prodigy's reaction.

"So you two are guarding the kid," he stated matter-of-factly, stepping back under the water.

"Uh, yeah." Raidou conceded, noting the man's anticlimactic response, "Our shift resumes in under six." He tried a change in topic. "We met Tenzou at the lockers; seems you guys got into quite a pinch?"

"… I have an anonymous benefactor out to get me," Kakashi mused darkly, and they eyed him questioningly. He chuckled lightly to defuse the mood. "Oh, just Kumo playing up. A few takeovers here and there to keep the war down, but with the massacre…" He stroked his chin contemplatively. "None of us will be retiring anytime soon."

* * *

**Next Chapter:**

"Your report?"

"He's got some kind of memory pocket weaved into his head… largely intangible, of course, but that isn't enough to question its existence."

"Can it be removed?"

The blond man sighed.

Feedback would be much appreciated. Really. Please tell me what you think I'm doing wrong and/or right. Tell me which parts you liked and/or hated. Any speculations about the events to come?


	4. Chapter Four: Cenotaph

**Disclaimer:** I own everyone whose name you do not recognize… and possibly the bit about iron maidens and all.

**Note:** Things may seem slow-moving or convoluted, but I promise that there is a point to all of it. I've got three major arcs/time-spans that I want to cover, and the buildup for this first arc may be a little slow, since I want to do this carefully/properly.

* * *

**Paradigm Shift**

_By intoxicatedasphyxiation_

* * *

**.04**

Most nights, Sasuke dreamt of trees.

Some nights, he'd see cascading waterfalls too, but a hand always held him back, pulling him by the shoulder away from the raging water. Sometimes there'd be a verbal warning; other times there'd be little holding him back other than a tight grip belonging to a hand that belonged to no-one. Whenever he turned around to look, an unnatural silence would greet him, reminding him that he was alone.

Sometimes the animals of the forest would rush towards the river, beckoning him to follow, in order to end his loneliness by becoming a part of the herd. Each time he followed, the hand would grasp hold of his forearm, yanking him back as though yoked to a chain. Each time, he'd cry out, begging to follow, to stop being alone—and the hand would reluctantly let go.

When he reached the watering hole, he'd bend down to cup it between his hands, drinking from his palms as the others lapped up the water with their tongues. When they had their fill, they'd retreat to the forest, leaving him with the latecomers—the hornbills, the crows…

He always found himself standing across the water from the one-eyed crow that squawked at him pensively, its open eye bleeding red. He often waded across the narrow stream, in an attempt to reach the bird, but the river would widen then, swallowing him whole with its gaping jaws as he lost his footing in the middle of an endless, murky abyss.

Sometimes he'd forget how to swim, upon losing sight of the river banks.

It wasn't long before he began to envision the water as the slow death of dreams.

Sometimes the crow would find him in the forest, whenever he did his best to resist the stampede to the river, sitting alone under the thick canopies of trees. The darkness often came quickly those days, leaving him alone with his gathered firewood, which he lit with a simple fire jutsu. The crow would find him then, sitting opposite the flames, and they'd watch each other until the fire burned out.

_I protect you from the trees_, the crow chirped once, in human words, when Sasuke asked for the bird's name.

"Are you my brother?" he persisted, but the crow looked away.

"So tell me about the trees then," Sasuke relented, giving in to his only companion. "What's so bad about them?"

_They weep for their burning brothers_, the crow said, gesturing with a wing towards the pile of crisping firewood.

"Oh," he said guiltily, rubbing his hands together to pick up the heat, "but I need to stay warm."

_Watch out for the roots_, the black bird cawed, _as they're the parts of the tree you never see until it's far too late to stop their growth._

Sasuke shifted nervously as he moved away from an aerating tree root.

"Why do they fear you?" he asked, remembering what the crow first said.

_Not me_, said the bird, _but what I know._

"Is it a big secret?"

_Something of the sort._

"Can I know?"

_You already know it._

Sasuke eyed the bird dubiously.

"I'd know if I knew a big secret, but I don't. I think I'd remember something so big."

_Not when it's hidden inside, _and he pictured something of a smile on the winged creature. _But once they know that you know it, they'll come for you too._

"But you'll keep me safe right?" The boy asked worriedly. "From the roots."

The bird surveyed its surroundings carefully, its singular red eye blinking as the pinwheel spun into shape.

It cocked its head to the side. _I'll see what I can do_, it said, before turning and hopping away.

* * *

"Your report?"

"He's got some kind of memory pocket weaved into his head… largely intangible, of course, but that isn't enough to question its existence."

"Can it be removed?"

The blond man sighed. "I'd rather not," he confessed, "not with the way it's wired into his brain—it works in a similar way to the Hyuuga's cursed seal. Any attempts to remove it could and possibly would fry out his brain."

"So it's a seal." Hiruzen replied, to which the younger man shook his head.

"No. It operates like a seal, but it's much more intangible than that. Whatever it is, it's a masterful application—even I can't penetrate it without risking permanent entrapment."

"Can you guess its contents?"

"The _Iron Maiden_?" Inoichi proposed and the Hokage starred at him quizzically. "There was a theory proposed just after the Second Shinobi World War regarding the survivors of massacres who had been 'allowed to live', so to speak. Yu Shang wrote about the entrapment of the soul in the mind, brought about by the consistent torture of the perpetrators that resulted in deep memory pockets being birthed into existence by the victim's own imagination. He wrote little about the physical aspect of it, but detailed a lot about the psychological deterioration that followed. He referred to them as iron maidens due to their mythological existence and the victim's inability to escape without shredding themselves to pieces."

"Are you suggesting that Sasuke did this to himself?" The old man asked wearily.

"He's certainly maintaining its existence," Inoichi replied, "sometimes even building onto it, with the number of memories he keeps evoking, though it's also possible that it was set up in place by another."

"Itachi." Hiruzen said resolutely. Inoichi could only agree—who else could it have been?

"It's cruel," he concurred, "but then again, I guess I wouldn't expect anything less from a kid that snapped and murdered his entire clan." He watched as the village leader peered through the open door at the dark-haired boy who remained fast asleep on the hospital bed.

Inoichi reached out with his chakra, searching for any eavesdropping ANBU, before pulling the door to a close. Leading the Sandaime into the adjoining room, he sealed them in with the privacy barriers that rose with a hum.

"Hyuuga," he muttered softly, even though they were alone.

The Professor merely sighed.

"Seems you've caught on," he noted, "or the Hyuuga are acting more openly than I thought."

"Rabbit," he offered, and the Hokage's eyes narrowed seriously, "I pulled him aside and reminded him of his first and foremost allegiance, but he did confirm the Hyuuga's interest."

"Will he be a problem?" Hiruzen asked, and Inoichi knew the consequences of answering that question fallaciously.

"His reactions have been a remarkable source of information, but I could have Gazelle watch over him too, for added security."

"I don't want any political intervention that might arise from that potential fallout."

"There shouldn't be any," Inoichi affirmed, "the psych evaluations show that Gazelle's still a lone wolf operative within his team, even despite their well-rated intra-unit evaluations. Panther did well to hold a group like this together, but I doubt they'll ever socialize outside the job, especially once Panther and Falcon retire from the force." He passed the file to his leader, who skimmed through the charts. "Also, it shouldn't interfere with the team's dynamics. If one of their members is a turncoat, even if only for the purposes of his own clan, it's still a violation of village law. The others would be obligated to act against him and bring him in on charges of treason."

"Hopefully it won't reach that boiling point," Hiruzen voiced steadfastly, "we'll just have to nip it in the bud."

They both turned to the monitors as Sasuke stirred, turning over to his side as he pulled the blanket along with him.

"I must ask, Hokage-sama…" the Head of Intelligence queried, and the old man nodded for him to continue, "why you revealed Itachi's escape to him. We don't know how that statement might have affected him."

"Falsifying Itachi's capture would have only had a detrimental effect," Hiruzen responded, "and Sasuke would have learned later, whether through secondhand knowledge or some other means. It's better for him to be in the know, under conditions where we can still actively monitor him."

Inoichi turned back to the screens, palming the remote that would let him zoom in. The young boy had turned again, burying himself under the blanket. "When he wakes, I'll speak to him again. If there's any progress, I'll report it to you immediately."

"Yes," the Hokage replied, heading back to the door, the folder tucked under his arm. "I'll leave you to it. I expect an update by the end of the day."

* * *

Out of all the training grounds that littered the innermost compounds to the outskirts of the village, it was often said that Training Ground Three was among the most well-known of them all, for its much frequented memorial stone. During the previous war, it had served as a temporary headstone to the countless graves that couldn't be dug, until proper burials or incinerations could be performed in the various cemeteries both within and outside the walls of the village. There simply hadn't been much time back then, or sufficient security and manpower to organize the searing number of obsequies that came about each day, and most families resorted to incineration along with closed ceremonies and private prayers.

During the war, it had been a luxury to be able to bury your dead.

Most shinobi waited until after to mourn their fallen friends, and Kakashi had attended more wakes than he could count on both hands several times over.

He visited their graves often, when he could, though more often than not he kept away out of shame, and when even liquid courage failed him, he often stumbled over to the one cenotaph that always found him and welcomed him back.

"I should've been here…"

Raising a hand over his covered left eye, he let the cold metal of his slanted protector benumb his fingertips.

"I wasn't in the village, where you might have been." The contrite sentiment was spoken softly, prohibiting the wind from carrying his words over to any eavesdroppers or passers-by. "I would have failed you again."

He paused in thought, picturing the revenant's reply. "Not that I think you're weak, but… you might not have seen this one coming. _I_ didn't, and they used to say that he and I were of the same mold." He let his hand fall back down to his side, before slipping it into his trouser pocket.

"Then again, _the higher you rise, the further you fall_ is the saying." Kakashi thought of his former teacher, who had suffered a premature death in order to perform the biggest sacrifice this village would ever see. His thoughts vaulted to Orochimaru as well, golden child of the Sandaime, who had been slated for Hokage candidacy up until the moment his true nature was uncovered. The Sannin had then made a run for it and escaped the village safely, befitting a shinobi of his skill level and status, but his reputation had been shot to pieces the moment he crossed the gate.

Itachi had done the same, and Kakashi doubted that he would ever be found unless he wanted it. _Of the same mold…_ The kid had been a genius too, after all.

"One of your cousins survived," he added as an afterthought, "Sasuke, his younger brother. They think Itachi tortured him into silence. I think they're just trying to measure the kid's stages of grief and hope that he doesn't try to send himself over too." He crouched down to the level of the memorial, eyeing the name of his one-time friend.

"He's like me, now." Kakashi mused thoughtfully, glancing overhead. "With family who died by their own hand…" _Death by prodigy_ was the term coined for it. The Uchiha had always regarded their clan as the crème de la crème—_it'll take an Uchiha to kill an Uchiha_, he had overheard once in the ANBU locker room, a simple reminder that Obito had been the only one of their kind he considered good enough to call a friend. Ironically, that very Uchiha axiom had come to pass. The same had been said about his father during his glory days—it made some kind of morbid sense that a man so renowned would only be felled by his own hand.

Tilting his head to take in the full panorama, Kakashi monitored his surroundings surreptitiously. He wasn't a sensor-type, but tracking had been one of his specialties from the start, and cooped together with just under two decades of high-level battlefield experience, it went unsaid that there were few who could catch him off-guard.

He felt a rising inclination to respect whoever was watching him now.

Forming a few quick, imperceptible hand seals under the guise of clutching his hands together over his knees, he formed a shadow clone, merging it with a subterranean technique to summon it under the soil. His simulacrum would know what to do upon locating the target.

He unclasped his hands, waiting patiently for the wrap-up.

Well prepared for the return of the copy's remnant chakra and newfound memories, Kakashi turned sharply towards the direction of its dispersal, biting into his thumb as he formed a quick flurry of well-practiced hand seals.

Slamming his palm against the ground, he watched as a dark-skinned pug surfaced, its paw raised in greeting.

"The target dispersed my copy," Kakashi ordered curtly, "follow my chakra pattern to the site of origin and get his scent."

Adhering to the sudden command, the clothed ninken headed out immediately, moving at top speed through the trees, while his summoner stayed behind, surveying the landscape for other insidious observers. Finding none, he pursued his trusted hound.

"Any success?" he asked, arriving at the scene to find the pug encircling a few trees, industriously sniffing the ground. "Whatever you can glean, I want it memorized."

"Yeah, yeah," the dog replied, glancing up, "though I'm surprised you didn't go after him yourself."

"Just keep at it."

Wide eyes narrowed perceptively, before returning to the assigned task. "It's to do with the recent… proceedings, isn't it?"

The silver-haired shinobi remained silent, arms folded across his chest as he leaned against one of the trees. Sinking into reflective rumination, he replayed his relayed memories from the shadow clone. The encounter had been brief, with his duplicate finding the target within moments of inception, intending to yank the culprit ankle-first into the ground. What had happened instead was a debacle of sorts, as the target had reacted against the maneuver by anchoring his feet with a well-calculated amount of chakra atop the soil. In turn, the stranger had also lashed downwards, instantaneously plunging into the ground to grasp hold of the clone's retreating hand, before wrenching the copy up to the surface with enough chakra-infused strength to rival Tsunade of the Sannin.

What caused his clone's dispersal was not the observer's highly commendable chakra control, but the fact that the figure had had such an awfully familiar presence.

"It's strange," the ninken noted, circling the disturbed patch of dirt where Kakashi's clone had been forcibly surfaced, "there's your scent, and then there's another… but it's not anybody else."

"Describe it in detail," the jounin urged, his worries confirmed, "I need to know the exact similarities."

"It's frightening, that's for sure… but it's not a perfect match. I mean, it's definitely got your scent to it. Ordinary hounds probably wouldn't be able to differentiate between the two." The pug's headband gleamed as the sunlight caught it between the leaves. "Other than that, there's nothing really. No discerning or distinguishing scent markers. I'll remember the odd one, but other than that, I doubt it's much to work with. The scent vanishes underground too. Whoever he is, he's very good."

"That goes without saying," Kakashi added, "I barely noticed his presence, despite his proximity."

The man had been hooded and well masked. He had also operated in a way that deterred the clone from seeing the upper half of his face. Rubbing at the phantom pain on his wrist from the forceful extraction, he recalled the unadulterated shock that had reverberated through his system the moment they came into contact, allowing the stranger to dispel his counterpart with an unrestrained strike to the neck.

That one moment of contact, however, had given him plenty of food for thought.

"You think it's them?" the hound asked.

"_Not here_," the Copy Nin responded warningly, lowering his voice, "and if so, it means that home ground's more dangerous than I thought."

"Internal, you mean?" the pug followed suit, remaining intentionally vague.

"More like personal." Kakashi corrected, his lone eye narrowing at the thought. The first inkling that anything was wrong had come several rotations back, when his ANBU unit Alpha VI had come under heavy political fire and the Sandaime had forcibly separated the well-coordinated team for vague, unspecified reasons. He had kicked up quite the stir then, citing injustice and negligence towards the proper formation of black ops units. It was, after all, a well-founded practice to keep coefficient units together to ensure maximum success, and his team never fell short in that regard. It had remained unspoken, but the Copy Nin had always prided himself on looking underneath the underneath, and he knew instantly that _he_ had been the hellfire's target, not his team. The dispersal of his team had merely been an attempt to throw him off-kilter… and it almost worked.

If it wasn't for the Sandaime's intervention and compromise to let him keep one member of his team and give Raidou the promotion he deserved, with his best friend to boot, Kakashi wasn't sure that he would have let the incident slide without quitting the force or doing something equally drastic to that effect. The council would probably have chided him for acting entitled to certain courtesies rarely accorded to the rest, but he was never one to let political manipulations such as these pull one over on him.

After all, he was never the type to willingly throw his friends and teammates away.

The events that followed soon after that had been much more subtle, at least on the political scale. His new team, though still dubbed Alpha VI, had been assigned to a series of inter-related infiltrative missions around the border of Kaminari no Kuni and its vicinity between there and Kumogakure no Sato. They had been assigned the role of playing anarchic mercenaries intent on freeing small villages just inside the Kaminari border from the 'oppressive rule' of their Daimyo. Nothing ostentatious, but just enough to remind the appropriate parties of the attempted coup d'état on Mizu some time back. The idea was that if Kumo centered its attention on the potentiality of a civil conflict, they would spend less time antagonizing Konoha's borders.

So far the mission had proven fruitful, and the Raikage had been ordered by the Lightning Daimyo to take charge of the situation and end it. Most Kumo-nin unnecessarily teetering on the border had been withdrawn to investigate the civil takeovers, giving Konoha the opportunity to strengthen its own borders without hindrance.

The problem, however, that had arisen was during his team's third stint, when several members of Kumo's very own black ops had been there to greet them, citing knowledge of their mission. The battle that followed had been short, but intense, and Keitaro had come out of it with a nasty wound across his shin that took a while to clean. What had been stranger was the fact that none of the Kumo warriors had had the proper chakra-infused markings of a legitimate soldier of the distinguished Kumo force.

They had lain low after that, cutting off all communication with Konoha in an attempt to weasel out anymore successive attempts on their lives. Nothing had followed and they carried out the rest of their mission with relative success, though the episode weighed far too heavily on Kakashi's mind to let him think that it was anything but related to the problems he had experienced back at home.

If those men belonged to Kumo, then it meant that Konoha had a security leak. Perhaps even a plant that had yet to be ferreted out. _But if they weren't…_

Kakashi's eye narrowed at the implication.

"Pakkun, I need you to prep the others about this," he ordered solemnly, as the ninken stood to attention, "I'm not letting this one slip."

* * *

"Enter," Inoichi announced, looking up from his paperwork to regard the ANBU member that silently stepped into the room.

"Inoichi-sama," he greeted inquisitively, "is something wrong?"

"Take a seat, Tatsuo-kun," the older man gestured to one of the two chairs opposite his own, pretending not to notice the ANBU's tilt of the head at the mention of his real name.

Codename Gazelle chose to stand, keeping his position, his hands held dutifully behind his back. Inoichi couldn't say that he expected anything less; that kid was always a stickler for the rules, even as a child. There had even been a betting pool at one point within the clan as to whether or not Tatsuo possessed a sense of humor. The answer had been a very definitive no.

"Is this about Rabbit?" he asked, and Inoichi paused contemplatively, before nodding once in affirmation. The young Yamanaka was sharp, the best of his batch, and he didn't put it past him to notice Rabbit's change in temperament after his summoning of the Hyuuga to the adjacent monitoring room in the hospital's restricted wing.

"I know that he's your teammate—"

"That's beside the point," the younger man interjected, "if you suspect that he's a potential threat, there will be no moral conflict on my part. I will do my job."

Inoichi's fingers thrummed his desk. "Very well, then. I've already spoken to the Sandaime about this, but I'd like you to keep an eye on him too. If you spot even a hair out of place on the brat, I want to know."

"Is the captain aware of this?" Tatsuo asked, as the Chief of Intelligence folded his hands together above his workspace.

"No," he replied, thinking of the scarred twenty-something leader of Beta IX, "and neither is Falcon. If a situation arises, they will be duly informed, but until then, your assignment will remain confidential and low-key."

"Understood, sir. Is there anything else required of me?"

Inoichi leaned back in his seat, rotating a pencil between his thumbs and forefingers. "What are your observations thus far of his behavior?" He wasn't the type to actively encourage intra-unit spying on fellow comrades and teammates, as it normally intervened with team dynamics, but he knew that Tatsuo would have no qualms about such things. He wondered if the kid even considered any of his own teammates as friends. As a solo operative, the concept of putting him onto a proper team had seemed outlandish at first, but the Hokage's adamant insistence of promoting cooperation and filling up the open positions left by teams who lost a member had been more pressing at the time. A year had passed since then.

"For a licensed medic, Rabbit is notably untrained in psychology," Gazelle remarked pointedly, "as evidenced when he first moved to grab the traumatized Uchiha. It is basic principle to let the child come to you, rather than invading their personal spaces of safety."

Inoichi remained silent, letting the ANBU continue.

"He has also shown visible signs of agitation and increasing distress since his assignment to our current task. Falcon attributes it to pride," he cocked his head to one side, "stating that the members of the Hyuuga clan rarely take well to being assigned sentinel duty."

Inoichi nodded slowly, the latter half of the report consisting of nothing new. Both the Uchiha and Hyuuga clans had plenty of egoistic idiosyncrasies that were generally ignored unless it involved a major political affair.

Rabbit's changing temperament indicated an amalgamation of things—firstly, it meant that Hyuuga Hiashi and the other elders were probably pressuring the kid in a mélange of ways. It could either mean that he was attempting to use the branch member as a means of communicating with Uchiha Sasuke, or that he was attempting to acquire classified information about the survivor that the Hokage had yet to release to the rest of the council. Both would result in the violation of the ANBU Secrecy Act, and unless caught in the act, the Hyuuga elders would escape scotch-free while Rabbit would be left to fry as a scapegoat. If the medic attempted to spill the beans then, Inoichi was never the type to put it past the Hyuuga clan head to activate the cursed swastika on the branch member's head.

Secondly, it also meant that the Hyuuga clan was getting nowhere with their machinations. Had Inoichi been the first to bust their cover by confronting the kid? Why else would the kid be so stressed out? Or had Hokage-sama also intervened? He knew that all political maneuvers until then were merely precursors leading up to the true fight that would occur during the next council meeting, when all factions would stake their claim over the last Uchiha.

Hokage-sama had been steadily deflecting all calls for a full council meeting, citing immediate security concerns and damage control before he presented everything to the council's scrutiny. They both knew, however, that even the God of Shinobi wouldn't be able to hold out on their demands for very much longer.

"If I may ask," Tatsuo conjectured, "will our clan also be bidding for the opportunity to raise the child?"

Inoichi regarded him with a speculative look.

"No," he answered definitively, "Not by a long shot."

* * *

By the time he awoke, the strange dream had ended, and a voluminous throbbing had filled the empty crater it left behind. Wiping his sweaty palms across the blanket that covered him, he surfaced to see the same blond haired man sitting by his bed, clipboard in hand.

"Sasuke-kun," the man greeted, as he pulled himself upright, simultaneously raising the pillow behind him. "Do you remember who I am?"

Sasuke stared blankly at him for a long moment, trying to put the man's familiar face to a proper name. It was a clan head, he knew—his father had made him memorize the faces of the council long before he entered the academy, but that had been so long ago…

"The mind reader," his voice croaked hoarsely as he tried to form the words, "Yama—Yamanaka…"

_Another lesser clan_, his father had said. Catching the gaze of the blond man, he realized that he had said it out loud. He quickly broke eye contact, looking away.

"—Inoichi," the man finished for him, professionally ignoring the gibe, "Yamanaka Inoichi, and I'm the one who's been checking up on you."

"Inoi… Ino," Sasuke rolled the familiar name around his tongue, "Like the girl."

"My daughter Ino is your classmate, yes." Inoichi remarked, tapping his pen against the clipboard. "Are you two friends?"

"She talks a lot," he said curtly, "and says she knows everything." He tilted his head sharply towards the older man, his eyes fixating on the man's own. "My brother knew everything." He felt the pang of sadness pulling at his chest and glanced down at his hands. "Now they're all dead."

He turned towards the window, which was still blocked out by a curtain, and wondered if one of the ANBU that frequently watched over him was there, hiding among the elusive shadows.

"I don't want to be here," Sasuke confessed, and the older man's eyes narrowed slightly at the statement.

"Where do you want to be?" Inoichi pressed on, when he didn't continue. There was some sort of controlled urgency in his tone—like there was something he wanted him to say.

Sasuke maintained his silence as he scanned the room, finding the black mounds on the ceiling that indicated the presence of video imaging devices.

"You watch me from another room," he deduced easily, "it's how you know when I'll wake up." He stared at the places the ANBU agents had stood when the Sandaime had been in the room. "Then why all the ANBU?"

"They're here to keep you safe," he was told, and he stared mirthlessly at the blond man as he jotted something down on the clipboard.

"Safe?" Staring down at his palms, he pictured his once bloody hands. "Safe from me…" He worked his way around the thought. "You want to keep _me_ safe… from me."

He repeated the phrasing wordlessly, keeping his head down.

"I have strange dreams," he admitted, pulling the pillow down as he curled onto his side, "and I don't know what they mean."

"What do you dream of?" Inoichi asked, and Sasuke saw the genuine curiosity on his face.

_But once they know that you know it, they'll come for you too._

"Roots," he answered, welcoming the thought.

* * *

**Next Chapter:**

Kakashi remained visibly impassive as he resealed the scroll, handing it back. Hiruzen clutched it tightly.

"Until he's reassured that our village remains unaffected by the massacre, his actions have the potential to undo many of Konoha's undertakings thus far, including your recent mission. If he chooses to play up the loss of the Uchiha clan as a major depletion of our resources by soliciting the clientele of other nations, he risks attracting Kumo's attention back to our doorstep." The Sandaime sighed wearily.

Review, please! This was a taxing chapter, but things are moving steadily along...


End file.
